Bent not Broken
by dracomalfoyzgirlfriend
Summary: After the death of her parents shortly after the war, Hermione Granger believes herself broken with no help of being fixed. When she runs into Draco Malfoy by chance in a muggle bar, he is determined to fix the Golden Girl, and prove that he is no longer the boy he used to be.
1. Prologue

**Hi! I thought of this story in the middle of the night when I was trying to fall asleep. I decided to write it down before I lost it. This is the first story I'm posting, I might post my others, but I haven't decided yet. I haven't written much in this story just yet, but I will try to post updates regularly. Please let me know what you think, I'm always open to suggestions! :D **

Prologue

The picture was taken one year from the day. A teenage girl sitting piggy- back on an older mans back, her arms wrapped around his neck, both grinning at the camera. A woman, about the same age as the man, was kissing his cheek. The photograph was a depiction of how close the family truly was.

Hermione remembered the day the photo was taken. Her parents had surprised her by taking her to Greece. The trip was their graduation gift to her since they could not be present for her graduation ceremony. She remembered her mother handing the camera off to a random tourist, asking for a picture. She remembered taking her father by surprise when she'd jumped on his back. She remembered her mother's giggle when her husband had almost fallen over. She remembered the happiness she has felt as her mother kissed her father's cheek. She remembered the feeling of belonging she had felt when the picture was snapped. She had felt content.

Hermione felt anything but content as she stood in the bathroom. She glanced up to meet her own eyes in the mirror. She took in her appearance. The black dress Ginny had picked out for her, the pearls that had once belonged to her grandmother, and her hair.

Her long hair. The same hair from the picture. When she was still happy. Long hair was for happy people. Hermione Granger was NOT happy.

Hermione pulled her wand out of her dress and conjured a pair of scissors. She didn't hesitate in putting them to her hair. Cutting away the last piece of herself her parents would've recognized.

Once she had finished, Hermione waved her wand once more, successfully vanishing the scissors. She took one last look at herself in the mirror, ran a hand through her now shoulder length hair, and dropped the photograph on top of the hair that had gathered on the counter. She turned, and without looking back, walked away, leaving the last shreds of the old Hermione lying on the bathroom counter. A single tear ran down her cheek.

Hermione Granger was officially broken.


	2. Chapter 1

**Hi! So here's chapter one. Chapter one is really just to introduce Draco, since Hermione was introduced in the prologue. I feel like Draco wouldn't just openly diss Hermione after the war because of what happened in his drawing room. I think he would try and explain what happened from his point of view to her first and see her reaction before he continued, I will start going into detail of the two's past animosity together in upcoming chapters, but I think this one is a good start. Please let me know what you think! :D **

Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy was not a drunk. He could stop anytime he wanted to. At least that's what he said when he was confronted him about that glass being his fifth firewhiskey in an hour.

He only drank on the bad days anyway, or so he said. It wasn't like the good days were coming in bunches.

No, Draco Malfoy was not a drunk.

The only reason he drank was because of everyone else anyway. He couldn't even walk down Diagon Alley without a crude remark spit at him from the shopper he'd passed, without the cashier pretending not to watch his every move, or without the mother shielding her child from his view.

When he was fifteen, he would have relished in the feel of being feared. When he was sixteen, he wouldn't have noticed, as he was a prisoner in his mind. When he was seventeen, he wouldn't have been on the street. When he was eighteen, no one else would have been on the street. Now, at nineteen, he was both feared and hated.

Draco Malfoy only drank to make himself forget. He drank to forget the hours he'd spent fixing that damned cabinet. To forget watching his headmaster's body fall of the astronomy tower. He drank to forget watching a teacher get eaten by a giant snake. He drank to forget watching innocent people get tortured. To forget torturing innocent people. To forget killing people. Draco Malfoy drank to forget himself.

Draco Malfoy only drank on the bad days. But it was no secret that everyday was one of Draco Malfoy's bad days.

He was only at this stupid muggle bar tonight because Tom, the barkeep at the Leaky Cauldron, the only bar that would still serve him, had refused tonight.

"You've come in here every night for the past six months. You're too young to be a drunk, kid," He'd said.

This was where Draco's "I can stop anytime" speech came in.

"Then stop, kid." Tom had said before slinging a dish towel over his shoulder and walking away.

But Draco Malfoy couldn't stop. He'd tried. He had made it all the way to the Diagon entrance before the stares had become too much. He turned around and headed toward the entrance to muggle London.

Draco Malfoy was a drunk. That was why he walked into a muggle bar.

He looked around. The bar was similar to the wizarding bars he had frequented during the war. There were tables surrounding the bar. There were booths. There were people. The sign on the door had said the place was called 'the Rat's Nest'.

No one took a second glance at him as he walked to the bar. He was a nobody here. No one knew what he'd done. He wasn't worth their attention here. It was a pleasant feeling.

"How can I help ya, kid?" the bartender asked.

Draco looked at him. He seemed annoyed that he had to serve someone. He had a dish towel slung on his shoulder as well.

"Uh," Draco realized that he didn't know how to order in a muggle bar. Did they even have firewhiskey in muggle London? This was a mistake. Do muggles even take galleons? This was a big mistake.

"He wants a whiskey. Neat," a girls voice said behind him. A voice he recognized. "Make it two," She said. The bartender nodded.

She was beside him now. He faced her, "Granger."

She winced, "Don't call me that." At his confused look, she continued, "If you're going to speak to me, you will call me by my first name." Her tone wasn't one to be messed with. Still, he considered calling her 'Granger', but that would probably mean her leaving. Her leaving would mean drinking alone. He was tired of drinking alone.

"Hermione?"

"I'm surprised you know my first name."

"Everyone knows your first name, saved the fucking world and all that."

"No, I just read books. Harry saved the world."

"Oh, fuck off, Granger-"

"Hermione," she interrupted.

"_Hermione,_" he mocked. "We both know that without you, Potter would have died at eleven."

The bartender set the drinks in front of them.

"What even is this, _Hermione_?" He asked, scrunching his nose as he inspected the drink.

"Just drink it, Malfoy," she said before walking away.

"Where are you going?"

"_I_ am going to drink myself drunk."

"Great! I'll go with you, glad we're on the same page."

"Maybe I want to get drunk alone."

"If you wanted to be alone, you would have just left me alone at the bar with no idea what to do."

She rolled her eyes at him and gestured to the booth she'd stopped at. He slid in across from her.

"Tell me, what is Draco Malfoy doing in a muggle bar on this fine Tuesday evening?"

"Draco Malfoy was refused service at the only wizard bar that would still serve him," he hunched over his drink. "He's too young to be a drunk."

"And are you?"

"Am I what?"

"A drunk?"

"Depends on how you define a drunk."

"Someone who turns to alcohol rather than people to fix their problems."

"Don't have people, only alcohol."

"Then I guess we're both drunks."

"You don't turn to Potter and the Weasel, then?"

"They don't understand, no one does."

"Try me."

She sighed and shifted her empty glass, I'm going to need a lot more whiskey for that."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hermione Granger was no storyteller. At least not while she was sober. But tonight, only three drinks in, and she was telling Draco Malfoy everything.

"That castle meant everything to me, and it was destroyed in that goddamned battle," she had started, swirling her drink in the glass. "The library was set on fire! The fucking library! The great hall became a fucking graveyard!" she angrily waved the hand not holding her drink in the air. "The place was ruined for me. The entire school. And not even a week after everything, Harry wanted to rebuild it. He wanted to just continue on like nothing even happened!"

Draco leaned back against his seat and signaled the barkeep to bring another round. He wasn't drunk yet and if she was going to bring up Potter and the war every other sentence, he definitely needed to be drunk off his ass.

"I didn't want to help rebuild. That castle will never be the same. At least not for me. Too many people lost their lives in that bloody castle for us to just move on like nothing happened," she stopped as the man put a drink in front of her. "When did you get this?"

"In between sentences."

"Oh."

"Continue, please. I'm always up for some Potter bashing."

Hermione snorted. "He thinks everything is okay now that Voldemort is gone."

Draco winced.

"But it is not okay!" she slammed down her empty glass and snatched the one the bartender had set in front of her. That was four. Draco was counting. "I'm not okay," She whispered.

"I don't think anyone is actually okay, Granger."

"I told you to stop calling me that. Malfoy."

"Sorry. It's a habit."

"Break it," she spat.

Draco tightened his hand around his glass.

"Look, _Hermione_, I haven't talked to much of anyone these last six months, so excuse me if the girl I have been calling 'Granger' for seven bloody years, suddenly decides she wants me to call her by her first name. It's going to take a whole hell of a lot longer than one night and five drinks to change that," he drained his glass once he'd finished his rant.

"I'm sorry," she seemed sincere enough. Two more glasses were set in front of them. Draco nodded at the bartender. "So, tell me your story," she spoke to him.

"My story?"

"Yes, your 'I'm not sure anyone is actually okay, Granger' story. I know you have one."

Hermione listened as explained what it was like having an insane, power- hungry, blood- thirsty, demon thing, living in his house for two years. She watched as he drank both his glass and hers before signaling the bartender for another. She listened to his thoughts on his father. How much he wanted him dead. How much he loved him. How much he wished his father wasn't in Azkaban. How glad he was that he was in Azkaban. She listened as he told her how he'd found his mother dead just six months prior. How he'd found her hanging from the chandelier above the dining room table. How he'd been the only one to attend her funeral.

She listened to his pain, wondering if she should share her own parents death. She opened her mouth to tell him when his next words stopped her.

'You know I don't hate you right?"

"Well I'd like to think you don't. You did just share your burdens with me after all."

"But I really need you to know, the only reason I didn't help you that night was because I was scared, not because I hated you," Hermione tensed, and he drained another glass. "I was scared for myself, scared for my mother, scared for you. Scared you would be worse off if I tried to help. Scared that if I tried to help I'd be killed. I didn't hate you, Granger."

"Hermione."

"I never hated you," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

"You're drunk, Malfoy."

"No one deserves that. Definitely not you." He was crying now. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Granger."

She didn't correct him that time.


	4. Chapter 3

**Hi again, I'm sorry I've been away for so long. My life has kind of gotten crazy these last few months, and I haven't exactly had all the time in the world to write and publish my stories. I know it's been a long time. Almost six months I think. Anyway, I think I'm back for good now, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

**Chapter 3**

Draco Malfoy is not a stalker.

Sure, he had a guy get him information of Hermione Granger, but it wasn't like he was going to watch her or anything.

Okay, so maybe he was going to watch her, but that was only so he could learn her. He _wanted _to learn her.

No, Draco Malfoy was not stalker. He was a learner. A scholar if you will. A scholar studying the subject of Hermione Granger.

And what a complex subject she is.

Hermione Granger never went to the same bar twice in a week. She went nightly of course. But she refused to go to the same one twice a week.

"I don't want people to feel sorry for me," she'd said when he asked.

"Why would anyone look down on you?"

"If I go to the same place every day, they'll eventually tell me it's not healthy, I have a problem, I need to get myself together, or that they're cutting me off. So, I go to different bars. Tuesdays are my "Rat's Nest days". As far as the people who work there are concerned, Tuesdays are my bad days at work. The next bar's Wednesday, etcetera."

"Bad days?" Draco found it hard to believe anything Hermione Granger made her life's ambition would have a bad day, "Where do you even work?" He asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione giggled into her drink, "a bookstore."

"I should've guessed, how do you even have a bad day when you work at a bookstore. Aren't books like your passion or something."

"Well, yes obviously, and I personally don't have bad days at work, but they don't have to know that," She smirked.

Draco had not been back to the Leaky Cauldron since the Tuesday Tom had refused to serve him.

Draco Malfoy hadn't stepped foot in the Leaky Cauldron since the Tuesday he was reunited with Hermione.

Instead, He followed Hermione around, and showed up to the same bars she did.

He did this for two weeks, until he had learned her schedule and no longer needed to follow her to get there.

She didn't seem to care.

Well, she didn't seem to mind it very much when he'd shown up on her doorstep on Saturday afternoon.

"I have had a shitty day," nowadays, every day for Draco was a shitty day, "and I need a drink."

"Then go get one, I don't know why you're here though, you know where my Saturday bar is."

"Yeah, sure. I want you to come with me," he whined.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"I don't like to drink alone," Draco mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I don't want to drink alone," well at least he didn't anymore.

She crossed her arms, "I'm not going to a bar at," she checked her watch and raised an eyebrow, "two in the afternoon." She raised one finger to stop him from interrupting her, "but, I do have something that we could drink now."

So, they drank.

And drank.

_And drank._

And Draco talked.

And talked.

_And talked._

Hemione didn't mind though. She liked to listen.

Listening helped her forget. And Hermione Granger _loved_ to forget.

Forgetting meant she could focus on her present rather than her past.

Hermione granger's past was not something she was particularly pleased with, and it sure as hell wasn't her happy place.

Draco's past wasn't the most pleasant place either.

That was why he'd shown up on her doorstep after all. To forget the things that had troubled him. His unpleasant past.

And forgetting is exactly what they did.

And when Draco woke up on Sunday morning, Hermione's feet resting gently on his lap, he realized just how much he liked forgetting with her.


End file.
